Smuggler's Moon Page 11

  “What about the name of the house?” Mouette persisted. “We can’t continue to call it Caverleigh House. It’s nothing to do with them now.”

  “What a thing to say. What puts such thoughts in your head?”

  “But, Mama, don’t you think ‘Raveneau House’ has a lovely ring to it?”

  Devon laughed and shook her head just as Miss Dowling, the children’s governess, emerged from the house, calling, “Mouette and Nathan, there are unfinished lessons waiting for both of you. Time to return inside.”

  “I think I would rather go to a proper academy, with other young ladies my own age,” Mouette complained as she stood and smoothed her muslin gown. “How tiresome it is to do lessons with Nathan in the same room. He thinks of nothing except making mischief!”

  When the two children had followed their governess back into the house, Devon sent Lindsay off with a tiny basket to pick wild violets before turning her attention to Julia.

  “Would you care to go shopping?” she asked.

  “Oh, well, I don’t think so. Truthfully, I…I’m uncertain of my financial situation.”

  “How tactless of me.” Although Devon’s eyes were bright with curiosity, she took a breath. “Actually, I had been hoping to choose a wedding gift for you, my dear. For both of you, of course, but especially for you.”

  Julia wavered. “I just don’t think we should. I have a perfectly acceptable wardrobe, after all, and I don’t believe that my husband and I will be engaging in a lot of social activities.”

  “Is everything all right?” Devon reached out to clasp Julia’s hand, and her warm gaze was penetrating. “I can assure you that any confidence that you share with me shall be closely guarded.”

  To her horror, Julia felt tears prick her eyes. “You wouldn’t tell Captain Raveneau?”

  “Normally, yes, but not in this case. You and I are women, and a friendship between women demands a special kind of loyalty.”

  “I have longed to confide in someone.” Something seemed to give way inside Julia. “You see, this marriage is based on a lie.”

  “Indeed?” Devon blinked, clearly uncertain of how to proceed. “Can you tell me what you mean by that?”

  “Sebastian doesn’t love me. In fact, he despises me. I have made a terrible mistake, but I had no choice! My sister could never have withstood marriage to a man like Sebastian—”

  “I must tell you that I am completely confused.” Producing a gauzy handkerchief from her reticule, Devon reached over to blot the tears from Julia’s pink cheeks. “Let me pour you another cup of tea and then you can tell me everything. From the beginning.”

  Fortified by the tea and a piece of seed cake, Julia began to tell her new friend everything that had happened, beginning with her family’s acquisition of Turbans, continuing through the day she first confronted Sebastian after discovering his name on the I.O.U. in her father’s pocket, and finishing with the moment in the bed at the Goat in Boots, when her new husband had discovered that he had married the wrong sister.

  “It didn’t stop him,” she revealed with a rueful smile. “He was angry, but…”

  “Oh, you don’t have to tell me this part. I can imagine perfectly! Your Sebastian is very much like my André, and we had our own share of tempestuous scenes in the early months of our romance.” Devon laughed. “If you could call it a romance!”

  “Were you married? Is that why you stayed?”

  “No, we weren’t married. Far from it! André was very slow to surrender his heart, but once he did, he gave it completely. I stayed with him…partly because there was a war on and I’d been forced to flee my town during a battle. But, to be quite honest, I stayed because I loved him madly, in spite of his bad behavior. My heart trusted in something I couldn’t understand.”

  “And you’ve been happy, that’s quite clear.” Julia studied her friend, whose expression had softened with emotions that caused her beauty to glow. “I have so many doubts, though, about a future for us. We really don’t know each other very well, and I tricked him into marrying me and he’s not a bit ready to forget that.”

  Devon’s smile was warm and a bit mischievous. “You have done something desperate and foolish and admittedly wrong. But, although Sebastian would rather die than admit it, I’ll wager he is charmed by your ingenuity and courage. He may say that he wanted a docile miss for a wife, but his heart knows better.”

  “Sometimes I am not sure he has a heart.”

  “Utter nonsense!”

  “My siblings and I used to call him Lord Satan. It was very fitting!” Julia paused until Devon’s laughter had subsided, then she said, “Of course, I would be a poor excuse for a woman if all I cared about was whether or not he has a heart, or if it might warm to me. In fact, I have always been the strong one in my family, the one who has guided all the others, even my parents. I will tell you that I have a good mind and I have many interests of my own. The thought of being powerless in an ill-conceived marriage with a hard man who doesn’t want me is discouraging, to say the least.”

  Devon leaned closer to her, blue eyes twinkling, and touched her cheek. “But what about that night at the inn. Was it terrible?”

  Julia blushed. “No…but—”

  “I thought not! There is something between you two, or you wouldn’t be here. If Sebastian were really so cross about this marriage, he wouldn’t have had his way with you on your wedding night. If, as you said earlier, he despised you, he would have taken you back to Bath and left you at Turbans with the rest of your family. No matter what he says, you must remember that it is his actions that count. And, my dear,” now she tapped Julia’s cheek lightly, “the same is true for you. You chose this path, and perhaps you shall have to wait and see where it leads.”

  “Oh my, that is not in my nature. I like to be the one drawing the map and organizing the expedition.”

  Just then, André Raveneau’s voice reached them. “Is there a little girl in this garden?”

  Lindsay’s face came up and she went running on her sturdy little legs to meet him, dropping the basket of violets on its side midway across the stone terrace. “Papa, Papa, I am here!”

  Scooping her up as if she were a feather, he buried his dark face in her baby curls. “How pretty you are today, ma fleur!”

  The child nodded in sober agreement and they all laughed. Julia watched as Raveneau approached them, clearly focused on Devon. His immaculate riding clothes accentuated the hard lines of his physique and the breeze ruffled his dark hair, its liberal strands of silver glinting in the sunlight.

  “How nice to have you home,” said Devon, rising to meet the embrace of his free arm. Her eyes were gleaming. “I’ve just been telling Julia what a cruel pirate you were long ago, before Mouette was born.”

  He glanced toward Julia with one brow arched in a way that reminded her of Sebastian. “But of course, you didn’t believe her, did you?”

  “You must confess, darling,” Devon scolded him, cuffing his chest. “It will give her hope for that scoundrel she’s married.”

  “In that case, whatever my wife has told you is true. And no doubt she has only scratched the surface of my villainy.”

  “That is terribly encouraging,” Julia replied with a laugh. “Thank you so much for your candor, sir.”

  “My lady, I can assure you that if I could reform, there is hope, even for a devil like Lord Sebastian Trevarre.”

  Chapter 12

  Roderick the butler admitted Sebastian to Caverleigh House when he returned from his appointment with Miles Bartholomew. No sooner had he greeted the tiny old man than a voice called to him from the direction of Raveneau’s library.

  “Won’t you come in, my lord, and join me for a brandy?”

  Looking around the wide doorway, Sebastian beheld his host sitting at the large, carved desk that had once belonged to his own father. “I don’t want to disturb you, sir.”

  “Please do.” Raveneau had been writing on a sheet of vellum paper, but
immediately set down his quill. “I’ve been endeavoring to compose a response to a letter I’ve had from President Adams. It seems that the United States Congress is quite upset by the latest dealings with France. Negotiations to resolve matters have broken down and some are calling for an all-out war. The president seems to be hinting that I might travel to Paris and speak to Talleyrand, then send him a report.”

  “I am disturbing you.’

  “On the contrary, I was just about to stop for some refreshment. Please, join me.”

  “All right, but I’d better have tea instead, since I’ve probably already drunk too much brandy today,” Sebastian replied, taking a chair on the other side of the desk. “I visited Watier’s after my rather torturous appointment with our solicitor. Beau Brummell was there, having just resigned his commission and returned to London. Do you know him?”

  “Slightly. I believe he’s about to come into a considerable inheritance.”

  Sebastian gave a sardonic laugh. “It will be very welcome, I’m sure, given his expensive tastes.”

  A footman entered with tea and poured for both men. When they were alone again, Raveneau said, “I imagine it can’t be easy for you, being in this house filled with your family’s things but seeing my family in residence.”

  “Rather bizarre, I must admit.”

  “I want you to know that I would be happy to pack up the entire contents of Caverleigh House and ship it off to—wherever it is that you will be living.”

  “That’s very kind of you, but where I’m going, all of this would be starkly out of place.” Pausing, Sebastian loosened his cravat and ran a hand through his thick hair. “I might accept one or two small paintings of my mother.” The sight of Raveneau’s arched brow caused him to add, “Also, there is a watercolor Mother made of the Cornwall coast. It was one of her favorites.”

  “I know the one you mean,” his host replied. “It’s hanging above her writing desk, in the morning room. Charlotte was more talented than she knew.”

  “I’m surprised you’re familiar with that painting.”

  “I wasn’t—but when I saw it, I knew it must be one of hers. She was already painting when I knew her in France.” Suddenly, Raveneau’s thoughts seemed to wander as he gazed out the window facing Grosvenor Square. “Mon Dieu, that was a long time ago.”

  Although momentarily taken aback, Sebastian quickly moved on to other matters. “I should express my appreciation to you for purchasing this house when my brother decided to sell. It could have been some villain who wouldn’t have given a damn about my family.”

  “I’m very pleased I could do it. And I want you to know that Devon and I would return it to your family if you should have a change in fortunes.”

  Sebastian shook his head. “I won’t want it back, and George doesn’t deserve it, so you must forget about the past and make this house your own. My own desires lie in Hampshire, where my brother has leased Severn Park to a stranger. When I was serving in the Royal Navy, I looked toward a future there, overseeing the horse breeding operation that my mother and I began.”

  “Right. I had assumed that you and your new wife were going to Severn Park. What do you mean to do about this?”

  “Thank God, the estate was entailed, so George couldn’t gamble it away, but he did sell off all the horses. It’s sickening to me. Fortunately, there are records for all the sales, and once I can afford it, I intend to begin tracking them down and buying them back.”

  Raveneau leaned forward. “Where will you live in the meantime?”

  “At the end of the earth, in bloody Cornwall,” Sebastian replied grimly. “Trevarre Hall is the only place that George didn’t manage to dispose of. It’s entailed as well, but I surmise that he couldn’t find anyone to pay him rent for it.”

  “But what will you do there to raise the capital to purchase those horses? Did your solicitor advise you today?”

  “Is that meant to be a jest? The only thing Miles advised me of today was my state of penury.” Sebastian let a bitter smile play about his mouth. “He did suggest that I might restore the estate’s old lime kiln. May I ask you, Captain Raveneau, if that would be an attractive solution if you were in my place?”

  Their eyes met in unspoken understanding. “No. Not a bit.”

  “I thought not. I do, however, have a solution in mind, but I won’t speak of it here.”

  “A wise course, no doubt.” The scar on Raveneau’s jaw seemed to tighten. “Were you aware, my lord, that I was a privateer captain during America’s War for Independence? It was a very dangerous game—so much so that I feel entitled to advise you against pursuing similarly risky ventures.”

  “Indeed?” Sebastian’s gaze was flinty as he pushed away his cup and saucer and prepared to rise. “I shall remember that.”

  “Did nothing good come of your meeting with Miles Bartholomew?”

  “There was one thing.” He was curious to see what was in the pouch Miles had given him and this seemed as good a time as any to find out. Taking the small sapphire-blue bag from his waistcoat pocket, Sebastian loosened the golden cord. “It seems that my mother privately entrusted this to Miles, with instructions to give it to me if she died.”

  “Very interesting,” Raveneau said, his gaze intent. “If she hadn’t, it would be part of your brother’s inheritance and he might have gambled it away by now.”

  As Sebastian gingerly shook the pouch, two delicate rings dropped onto the leather desk blotter. “Hmm.” He held one up and saw that it featured a small sapphire and a diamond mounted side-by-side. “It’s odd; I don’t remember ever seeing her wear this ring. I can’t imagine why she made a point of leaving it to me.”

  “I—” Raveneau broke off. “That is, perhaps you weren’t paying attention to what she wore. I certainly couldn’t tell you a thing about my own mother’s jewelry.”

  “I suppose it must have had some special significance to her. A memory that included me, perhaps?” He held the ring in between his thumb and fingertip, staring for a long moment before he returned it to the blotter and picked up the other circlet of gold which featured a round piece of painted ivory trimmed in tiny sapphires. “How very unusual. It must be one of those eye miniatures I’ve heard about.”

  Together they stared at the tiny painting of a compelling slate-gray eye set off by black lashes and a slightly arched male eyebrow. A clock ticked to mark the long moment of silence.

  “I’ve never seen this before,” Sebastian said at last. “I can’t imagine what the devil it means.”

  Exhaling harshly, Raveneau said, “It looks like your own eye, my lord. Perhaps she had it made for herself, as a remembrance when you went off with the Royal Navy.”

  “Perhaps. But then, why would she give it to Miles to keep?”

  The older man shook his head and moved away. “I haven’t a clue. What I do know is that I must finish writing this letter before dinner is served.” He sat down again and picked up the quill again. “Would it be rude if I asked you to leave me now?”

  “Of course not, sir.” Feeling strangely unsettled, Sebastian dropped the rings back into the pouch, returned it to his pocket, and took his leave, pausing in the doorway just long enough to glance back and see André Raveneau staring out the window, his thoughts clearly far away, the quill and parchment seemingly forgotten.

  * * *

  After a light evening meal that featured Florentine rabbit, fresh peas, and a delightful summer pudding, Sebastian declined to have port with his host, explaining that he must consult with Keswick in advance of their departure on the morrow.

  Julia looked at him from across the table and raised her chin. “May I inquire as to our destination, my lord?”

  Feeling the eyes of the entire Raveneau family on him, Sebastian colored slightly under his tan. “Of course, my dear. As soon as I am finished with Keswick, I shall see you in our rooms and tell you our plans.”

  He excused himself then and went off in search of his manservant. It was one of
those moments when he thought he would choke if he didn’t get out of this house, with all its memories of his dead parents, and better yet, out of London. He longed to mount his favorite stallion, Lucifer, who it now appeared he would never see again, and ride all the way to the coast without stopping.

  Unfortunately, that was not an option. Instead, he searched everywhere for Keswick, who he finally discovered in his dressing room.

  “I’ve looked for you everywhere,” Sebastian complained.

  “Indeed? But, where else should we be on such a night but here, organizing your lordship’s belongings for the journey?”

  “Sometimes I think that you believe that you are the master and you are just pretending to be my servant.”

  The little man ignored this, continuing to carefully fold an array of starched white neckcloths.

  Sebastian closed both doors leading out of the candlelit dressing room. “Are you not curious about our destination?”

  “Trevarre Hall, my lord?”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Did you not tell me?”

  Sebastian scowled. “You of all people know how much I despise that ruin.”

  “You do Cornwall an injustice, my lord.”

  Suddenly, Sebastian was flooded with memories of his boyhood summers in Cornwall, when his parents had often left him behind with a sour governess while they traveled to the seashore or sailed across the English Channel to France. George had been older, Isabella had not been born yet, and only he was at an age too awkward to be included in their summer plans. His mother had been sympathetic, but his father was strict to the point of cruelty. Eventually Sebastian had learned to hide his feelings so that no one could guess he was sad or lonely. He didn’t want to cause his mother distress, or give his father the satisfaction of seeing his weakness.

  “You were the only person who made it bearable, Keswick.”

  The manservant looked up at that and their eyes met in unspoken communication. For a moment, he seemed to forget his habit of referring to himself in the plural. “I was only the stable master at Trevarre Hall. I had no official role in your life, not then.”